


do not look back in anger

by spiraetspera



Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiraetspera/pseuds/spiraetspera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"and when Pygmalion started to love Galatea, he blasted the heavens down so the gods would breathe life into the sculpture"</p><p>Dominic/Natasha; angst and some sweet moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do not look back in anger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ellis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellis/gifts).



> For the wonderful and magnificently talented Ellis. Also; Mr. Rook and his "no care, all responsibility" girl, Natasha made the series 5 terrific. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated!

i. car ride (the first five hours)

Her eyes are cast down and the silence that hangs between the two of them is a heavy one, weighted down by blood ad unsaid horrors. He measures his words well to knot back some innocence into her heart, but his feels too distant. Cold and formal, but Dominic Rook feels terrified.

 

ii. adolescence (patterns)

This is how it goes, always: Natasha, trying to impress him; and him, fucking him, dancing back in an organized mess.

 

iii. tequila (four calls at two in the morning)

It's ironic, because her face is paler than ever and she chats with a man twice his size and age. An alarm goes off in his brain -denies the fact that this alarm makes a warm echo from his head to his heart whenever she is around – and although he has twenty tactful profanities kept for her, he swallows them and his rage as he parks his car.  
„Dominic!” with a cheerful voice and clumsy limbs she makes her was towards him; snorts loudly as she does. The man catches her by the waist and probably whispers something deliberately intimate in her ears.  
The man wants to fuck her, and Dominic wants nothing more than to smack his face with a glass of scotch to make that smirk disappear from the corner of his mouth, smacking his mere memory into piecesfrom Tasha's mind. 

And she wants another tequila.

 

iv. ghost (shower visit)

„Nice ass, chump.” He slips on the floor, but is proud he didn't scream.

 

v. hormones (please shape me into glass)

It's her sixteenth birthday and as a heartful tradition, he takes her out for lunch in a nearby coffee shop. The curtains are yellow with smoke-rings and smell like badly cooked pasta. She chats idly about school and the kind: they assigned her with a babydoll-like girl in chemistry who doesn't even bother touch the test tube. He asks about the detention, which she passionately denies and blames the math teacher's lacking any sense of good humour.  
But there is something greater coming after this regular chat, and Dominic Rook is an observant man. Her skirt is way too short, she looks thinner than a month before and wears a perfume way too strong. She is not a girl anymore, he realites, not just generally speaking, but suddenly neither in his eyes, and the little tavern feels too small and too suffocating. 

”Should I buy you a longer skirt for your birthday?” he answers, totally off topic. Then adds; ”Please use your fork, Tasha.”

 

vi. hormones yet again (wish)

”I will tell you a secret” she breathes. ”Brace yourself.”  
He bends his head down. Their noses touch; their mouth mingle. Before he could prevent the kiss it is already happening and he cannot say he does not enjoy every bit of it.

 

vii. father (life-lessons)

”You are looking for a justice that does not exist in this world.”

She has never loved him more dearly, and this feeling should have never hurt as much.

 

viii. the light-bearer (inside and out)

When his time comes, it is not a gentle one. It is an all-consuming, soulwrenching, heartdevouring light which squirms its way into his head. Similar to the lulling alarm which repeated the sound of Tasha's heart, but now his goldensilverbronze girl, his only possible daughter, along her allcare heart is rotting in a grave which he himself dug with his foolish, infantile greed. 

”No care, eh?” chides the Devil wearing the face and voice of Hatch. ”Now, that is one bitter pill to swallow.” 

And he suddenly wants nothing more, than to forget, would sell his department with all its files and his own, foolish asininity.

Then even more cruelty: Dominic smells summer lilies. She sent a bucket of them in an impossibly rainy May afternoon, with a card saying: ”Happy Birthday – since you never told me when it is. I passed my exams.” He put the card next to his mother's only photograph. A fact he would have never admitted, an answer he never made.

He put summer lilies on her grave too: warm colours against the cold marble.

”Please, stop the pain” every whisper is a excruciating effort, but Dominic begs nevertheless.

”You cause the pain for yourself. The memory you choose to dwell on is not my merit.”

 

ix. the night after (almost accomplished task)

The bruise on her thigh is an ugly, marred spot; painful even to look upon. He kisses it softly; feeling suddenly dazzled and blessed: a sensation so foreign that he averts his eyes from her soft gaze. Instead of words, she puts her lips on his whiteblonde brows, and makes the constant, everthere frown disappear.


End file.
